Remus Hates Blonds
by n3rual
Summary: Blonds. Remus hated blonds. Well, certain blonds, well, a certain blond, yes. One blond. Remus hated that blond more than anything. Remus/Lucius.


For The Slash Challenge – HarryPotterResidentEvilFan over at HPFC.

Challenge: To use the pairing of Remus/Lucius.

* * *

Blonds. Remus hated blonds. Well, certain blonds, well, a certain blond, yes. One blond. Remus hated that blond more than anything. For the things that blond did, boy, who could imagine?

Every time he noticed a certain blond his heart rate would jump, racing to an invisible finish line, and every time that happened, things would end badly for Remus. Whether he ended up stuttering, or dropping something, or just generally drawing unwanted attention to himself, things would go wrong.

But that blond! That skinny, tall, sophisticated blond, was what did it. He knew; Remus knew it had to be the blond; he'd managed to rule everything else out, always a man of science! Well, perhaps not science, but fact at least, yes, Remus had to know the facts of the situation, and in all the experimental alternatives he'd never had his heart race in the way it did when that blond entered the room.

Of course, with his heart racing as fast as it did, the blood had to go somewhere, and with his heart racing as fast as it did, and him being male, well, you could guess where the blood was rushing to. Oh yes, every time that certain blond, that one blond,_ Remus' blond_ entered the room, Remus would become aroused, so aroused that even when he knew he should be blushing no blood could escape to his face, leaving him clammy and pale like a sick boy.

Oh how Remus hated that blond.

"I hate you" He gasped as he was pushed against the wall. His breath left his lungs as his head tilted to the side as the other nibbled his way up Remus' neck. The blond drew away slowly and smirked at the younger male.

"You could never hate me" he smirked down at his younger partner before reclaiming Remus' lips in a heated kiss. Remus couldn't suppress a moan as he brought his hands, which had previously been paralysed at his sides up to play with the blond's hair, tangling in it, pulling it taking out his revenge on the strands for being blond.

Shirts hit the floor, followed by belts and shoes, pants and boxers. Naked skin clashed together, moans being elicited from both parties, more so the blond a Remus tried to maintain his pretence of hatred. Thrust after thrust and the male's heads were spinning, lost in the sensations of each other's bodies they couldn't think, they couldn't love, they couldn't like, or lie or hate. There was nothing in those moments but each other, and that was why they did it. It wasn't for the blond, or the shagging, the fucking, the screams they pulled from each other's throats, but for the moments of nothing. Of emptiness, the emptiness they both craved so desperately.

They were at war with the world, with each other, with themselves and in their fucking, their desperate thrusts, rough or soft, they were free of everything, free of pain and suffering, fighting and dying, love and hate. In those moments, they were free of everything.

Perhaps that was why the affair continued. Perhaps that was why Remus kept coming back. Perhaps that was why Remus hated the blond so much.

By morning the freedom would have to end, they'd have to go back, with a promise of another time, perhaps, another day, another thrust, another fuck. They could hope for nothing more, nothing more than continued survival and the chance at meeting again in another place at another time. They both had their separate lives, their separate fights, their separate wars. They had nothing together besides these moments. And neither wanted that to change.

There was no place for love in their relationship. Something Remus seemed desperate to remind the blond of each time he came, each time he left, every time they were together.

"I do hate you, you know" Remus spoke from the doorway where he stood leaning against the wooden frame staring at the sleeping form of his lover. He waited a moment just staring at the pale blond figure that lay sprawled across the motel bed before he left. Remus was never there in the mornings, he never waited or said goodbye, it would be too hard, for as much as he said it, for as much as he tried to convince himself, he could never truly hate the blond.

"I hate Gryffindors" Muttered Lucius as he awoke, alone in a cheap motel room for the third time that month.


End file.
